Uprising
by ThoseWereTheDays
Summary: Padmé has survived Mustafar and now leads her own branch of the mounting Rebellion bent on bringing down the Empire by any means necessary. Their primary objective: The Assassination of Darth Vader.
1. Prologue

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_It's been a long time since I've posted anything on here, but I was recently inspired to write this story. I know that I have one or two unfinished fics already, but I have a bad habit of getting easily sidetracked. Not to mention real life has kept me pretty busy lately and what little writing I have done has been original material._

_Anyway, getting back on point, I've decided to buckle down and get this idea out. One of these days I'll hopefully finish my other stories, too. _

_Like most of my fics, this particular story is based in an alternate reality..._

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc._

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**…TOP STORY…BREAKING NEWS…TOP STORY…BREAKING NEWS…TOP STORY...BREAKING NEWS...**

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**_The Coruscant Informer_**

**Early reports of an attempt on Emperor Palpatine's life have been proven true. Yesterday evening at approximately 1900 hours, the former Chancellor was assassinated and pronounced dead. Cause of death has not been disclosed. Local authorities have yet to comment on whether or not they are following up on any leads, or investigating possible suspects.**

**Following a plot to overthrow the Old Republic perpetrated by the Jedi Order, the Emperor has been kept under heavy lock and key – rarely stepping into the public eye. He has since remained vigilant and steadfast in his devotion to the creation of an improved society in which all creeds and races will be granted equal rights, and peace and justice can be restored. A society that will one day become the New Imperial City.**

**With the construction of the first Galactic Empire still underway, growing concerns over the systems' formation have been shared and expressed by many. Rumors of potential successors have been widely speculated, but no announcements have yet been made to confirm said rumors. Imperial officials have guaranteed that necessary steps and laws have been put into effect in order to ensure a prompt and judicious resolution. As the next in line to take up the mantle, it is likely only a matter of time before Lord Vader is appointed the 2nd**** sovereign of the recently established Galactic Empire.**

**More on this story as it develops…**

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	2. Chapter One: Salvation

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Well, I got a little flak for not posting this sooner. Truth is, I was having some uploading problems, but all is well now. So, here it is & I hope you enjoy…

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc._

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**Chapter One**

_**Salvation**_

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Her steps were fast and purposeful. To her left, numerous men, women and children rushed through the spacious corridor as their rescuers led the way out of the facility. To her right, a group of clone troopers stood in surrender while several armed members of her squadron kept their blaster rifles trained square at their chests. Smoke and soot filled her throat and burned her lungs with every step she took, but she pressed on and continued onward nonetheless. Without hesitation, she marched deeper into the structure with her blaster in hand and at the ready; her finger never leaving its trigger.

In all directions Astrid could see her allies speedily evacuating the facility as flames raged and threatened to engulf the entire building. Rounding the corner, she spotted a familiar face and couldn't help but release a sigh of relief.

"Pavel, what are you doing?"

Turning with a smug grin, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was facing impending death, her friend and fellow soldier answered with a tinge of amusement in his voice. "Aah, there you are, love! Running a little late, are we?"

"In case you haven't noticed, it's really starting to heat up in here," Astrid replied, not bothering to hide her annoyance as she joined him. "This is taking too long – their reinforcements will be here soon."

"Relax, you worry too much," Pavel retorted as his grin broadened. "All that stress can be bad for your health."

Ignoring her companions' remark, Astrid brushed past him and continued on her way. "I don't have time for your usual blathering, Pavel. Where is she?"

Pavel didn't have time to answer before a group of rebel soldiers emerged from a nearby room and charged down the corridor; their commander taking point as she carried a blaster in one hand and a small jewel case in the other. Despite her petite stature and slender build, her very presence demanded respect and shone with unquestionable authority. She had long been admired by countless followers; not only out of loyalty to her cause and the ideals she stood for and represented, but out of loyalty to the person herself.

She had devoted her entire life to upholding peace and justice. First, by serving as the youngest queen in the history of her home–world, then as a highly regarded senator in the waning days of the Old Republic, and finally as a freedom fighter in a conflict that would ultimately decide the fate of the entire galaxy. She embodied the perfect symbol of hope. During her relatively short life, she had acquired wisdom and experience that far surpassed her years, and had become an adept and beloved leader.

"Did you find anything?" Astrid asked once she reached them.

"I'll have to fill you in on the details later," her commander quickly replied. "Have the prisoners been safely evacuated?"

"We're clearing the last of 'em out now," Pavel answered.

"Good. Then we should do the same," she said, taking one last look over her shoulder before resuming her previous course. "Follow me, we're running out of time!"

Happy to oblige, Astrid and Pavel fell into line and followed in tow as Padmé Amidala hastily led their retreat.

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Astrid sat still and silent. Rubbing elbows with some of the Rebellions' highest ranking commandants had always put her ill at ease, and today was no exception. She had fought her way out of too many skirmishes to keep count, and had risked her life on a daily basis every day since the formation of the Empire…and yet, it embarrassed her to no end that she still felt so intimidated by her superiors. Of course, she would never admit it aloud.

Her foot tapped nervously beneath the oval table positioned in the center of the conference room while she, like the others gathered together for their customary briefing, awaited their guest of honor. Luckily, it wasn't long before Astrid caught the gleam of a familiar protocol droid out of the corner of her eye. Clumsily bumping into the doorway as he stepped through the threshold, C–3PO muttered a few inaudible words to himself before entering the council chambers. The other occupants of the room rose from their seats when Commander Amidala arrived a moment later.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said as she took her place at the table and motioned for her cohorts to return to their seats. Silently, they sat and patiently waited for her to proceed. "Thank you all for coming. As you know, we have much to discuss. I'd like to begin with the processing camp that we liberated last week. We suffered no casualties, and few of our fighters were injured. Fortunately, we were able to hack their system and prevent them from transmitting a distress signal…"

Astrid frowned as memories of their most recent raid flooded her thoughts. Yes, they had liberated the facility and saved hundreds of lives. Yes, they had inflicted serious damage to the installation in the process. Yes, they had managed to retrieve vital information and coordinates from extensive Imperial data records. But none of this answered the one question that gnawed at her mind: what purpose did these 'processing camps' really serve?

They had heard horror stories. Stories of torture, stories of murder, of scientific experimentation. They had liberated nearly a dozen camps, and each of the survivors had shared similar stories. Death. Pain. Suffering. They had been rescued, thankfully; but not before they had endured terrible, unspeakable atrocities under the Imperial regime. Astrid only hoped that after their latest endeavor, Padmé would finally be able to shed some light on the subject.

"And as some of you may already know, we were able to obtain crucial files from the installations' main database," Padmé continued without pause. "Right now our top experts are working hard to analyze and break the Empires' safeguards. Their encryption code is complex, but our people are confident they can salvage the information on the discs we copied from – "

Suddenly, all eyes turned to the door when an ecstatic man carrying a holopad burst into the room.

"I can't…can't believe it!" he panted, trying to catch his breath as he held the pad up in his hand. "Look at this!"

"Son, you are interrupting a very important meeting," one of the commandants spoke up.

"No, it's okay," Padmé swiftly interjected. "What is it?"

Nothing could have prepared anyone in the room for what came next:

"The Emperor…he's dead!"

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	3. Chapter Two: Evidence

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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc.

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_Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Unfortunately, the chapters in this story won't be that long or updated daily seeing as how I only have limited windows to write in each day, but I'll do my best to stay on top of things. Hope you enjoy the rest…_

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**Chapter Two**

_**Evidence**_

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The news had come as a shock, to say the very least. It had hit her like a durasteel wall. At first, her heart had leapt for joy and she had rejoiced alongside her allied freedom fighters; happily partaking in their jubilant celebrations. But soon, once her initial excitement had ebbed, the realization that the war for the galaxy was still far from over sank back in. Now, sitting alone in her own personal work quarters, Padmé meticulously poured over dozens of datapads strewn about her desk and mulled over the Rebellions' current situation.

New problems would undoubtedly arise. She could find some degree of solace in the fact that Emperor Palpatine had indeed been assassinated, but it didn't do much to ease the tension building up in the pit of her stomach. Originally skeptical of the rumors and countless reports flooding the holonet, the Emperors' demise had been corroborated and proven accurate a short time later. However, the death of the tyrant was twofold.

On the one hand, the Emperor was gone and his evil reign had come to an end. This was, undisputedly, a fortunate and most welcome turn of events. His cruelty and malice had known no limits, and Padmé was truly glad to see him dead. His downfall had, after all, been the goal of the resistance ever since its formation.

On the other hand, she knew exactly who was next in line to sit on the throne, and the thought made her stomach churn. Even as Chancellor of the Galactic Senate, Palpatine had been cunning and calculating in the steps and measures he had taken to ensure the destruction of the Old Republic. He had set the Jedi Order up as his scapegoats and made them enemies of the state; blaming them for a coup that had been a lie and just one more stepping stone in his diabolical plot to overthrow the system and mold his new empire.

Claiming that an attempt had been made on his life by the Jedi, he had labeled them traitors and wanted fugitives. It pained her deeply that so many across the galaxy had so willingly bought into his propaganda. In the end, his ploy had paid off perfectly.

Yes, the Emperors' scheme had certainly been a success. He had been guileful and patient, and had duped the public and politicians alike with his treachery. But with his cautious approach came time for the Rebellion to deliberate and find patterns that could be followed. Whereas his former apprentice, who would likely be inheriting the Empire in the very near future, acted purely out of impulse. Ruled by his emotions and bloodlust, Vader's movements had always been erratic and unforeseeable; making it nearly impossible to predict his actions ahead of time.

That name…Vader. It made her seethe with rage and loathing just to think it. Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith: the monster who had murdered her husband and robbed her of her children. He had killed Anakin, the love of her life. Her son and daughter had been taken from her and hidden away to keep that beast from learning of their existence. He was the epitome of evil. If ever she had hated someone…

Rotating in her chair, Padmé quickly pulled herself from her wandering thoughts and turned to her office door when it slid open with a swish. In stepped a familiar man with long, tousled redish–gray hair and an unkempt beard. Like most days, he looked weary yet content; his standard jumpsuit disheveled and wrinkled as if he hadn't changed out of it in weeks.

He was called Red by most, but with his advanced age came the fading of the bright crimson hair that had given him his nickname during the days of his youth, and he was often teased that he would soon have to change his moniker to Gray. He was loyal and trustworthy, but little was known of his past. He was known to have been a freelance computers specialist before the rise of the Empire; a skill that he had proven time and again while operating under the Rebellion. What exactly he had specialized in before joining them, nobody knew.

"Easy, boss, I come in peace," he greeted Padmé, lifting his hands in surrender.

"What?"

Padmé furrowed a brow, not immediately catching his meaning. Then, realizing that a deep scowl still shone on her face as the thought of Vader lingered in her mind, she released a heavy sigh and allowed her shoulders to slump in exhaustion.

"No, it's fine. Come in," she said as she sank deeper into her chair. "What did you find?"

"Do you want the bad news, or the worse news?" Red asked, approaching her desk and plopping down in the seat directly across from hers.

Once again, Padmé frowned. "Surprise me."

"First thing's first, I've recovered some disturbing data from the disc you stole last week," Red proceeded, matching Padmé's frown with one of his own. "It seems our friend the Emperor put these processing camps in place to test and determine the midi–chlorian count of suspected Force sensitives."

"Their midi–chlorian count?" Padmé repeated. "For what purpose?"

"Well, that's the thing," Red briefly hesitated before uneasily clearing his throat and continuing. "It says in the files that all subjects exceeding the set limit, uum…are to be systematically terminated."

Padmé gasped, horrified by the revelation. "You mean they were executing these people in cold blood?!"

"Apparently so," Red confirmed. "Men, women, children…any and all races. The Empire's mostly been targeting and operating in the Outer Rim territories, but I have a feeling it won't stop there."

"How many facilities do they have up and running?" Padmé questioned as she angrily rose from her seat. "We have to stop them!"

"We only have the locations of two other installations currently in use," Red answered.

Running a hand through his tangled hair, Red sighed and stood up while the agitated woman before him anxiously began to pace back and forth. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she thoughtfully stroked her chin; her eyes smoldering with an unbridled intensity.

"There's more, boss," Red eventually spoke up, unsure if whether or not he should resume his update. He took Padmé's silence as an affirmative and pressed on. "There's also a list of executive orders and procedures for the clone army…top secret instructions."

Padmé momentarily halted her pacing. "What kind of instructions?"

"See for yourself," Red replied as he held a holopad up and activated it. An image sprang to life an instant later; cataloguing a lengthy list of military directives and codes. "Take a look at number 66..."

Padmé watched as the older man used his finger to scroll down the list. She held her hand up to her mouth in shock when it settled on a single file: Order 66. "This is it…this is how Palpatine murdered them."

"It calls for the extermination of the Jedi," Red said in a near whisper.

"How long is the list?"

"Almost five–hundred separate orders and initiatives," Red replied. "I've skimmed through the first hundred or so, so far. The files were heavily encrypted, but I was able to crack their safeguards and find a way in. Trust me, it was no walk in the park."

"I can't believe even the Emperor could be so…" Padmé trailed off, wearily rubbing her temple as she spoke. "And right under our noses. Think of all the lives that could have been spared if only we had discovered this sooner."

"Could'a, would'a, should'a," Red retorted with a snort. "Every scenario has its own 'what if', but you can't go analyzing every little possibility like that. If you do, it'll drive you crazy."

Sighing, Padmé plopped back down in her chair and returned her attention to the holopad. "I know you're right, but that doesn't make it any better."

"Hindsight's a hell of a thing, boss," Red stated with a slight shrug. "Anyway, I should be getting back to work. There's still plenty to sort out."

"You look tired," Padmé said, more as an observation than a question.

"Not as tired as you," Red replied as he offered his worn–out commander a weak grin. Then, without another word, he turned and started for the door. Padmé once again peered down at the holopad resting on her desk until he abruptly glanced back at her. "Oh, I almost forgot – we received an incoming transmission a few hours ago. It was from Ben…he said he should be here sometime tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Padmé asked, barely able to contain her excitement. "Thank you, Red."

Padmé's chest tightened as the thought of their guests' arrival filled her mind and blinded her to all else. Watching Red's back as he disappeared into the corridor, she did her best to gather her composure. Their visitor, she knew, would be carrying with him vital information that only he and a few others were privy to…information that she had long awaited, and was eager to hear.

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	4. Chapter Three: Tidings

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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc.

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_This story has been pretty dark so far, but the angst does serve a purpose (I'll explain in upcoming chapters). So, if you stick with it, things will be heating up soon. And as for you action junkies, the next chapter will really be setting things in motion._

_P.S. 'You know who' will be showing up before too long…_

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**Chapter Three**

_**Tidings**_

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Secluded in a remote corner of the Outer Rim territories, Endor was an easy location to overlook. The forest moon was a green jewel that stood out against the dark reaches of space, but it stood alone. Rivers wound through its thick canopy of ancient trees, and its dense woods extended high over the dark floors and low mountains of the isolated world. It was nature at its best: thriving and healthy, untouched by the hands of civilization. All except for the single structure that towered high and ominous in the otherwise peaceful wilderness. Clone troopers by the hundreds bustled to and fro all about the lone compound; hastily making preparations for some unknown operation.

Hunkered down in the surrounding undergrowth of the forest, Astrid peered at the Imperial soldiers through a pair of high–powered binoculars while several of her subordinates quietly awaited their orders. However, it wasn't long before one subordinate in particular spoke up and broke the silence.

"Well?" Pavel whispered from his place beside her. "What do you make of it?"

"They appear to be evacuating the compound," she curtly responded.

Following up on the data that had been acquired on their previous excursion, Astrid had immediately been deployed alongside a squadron of Rebel fighters to do reconnaissance and neutralize a known processing camp. After learning of the true purpose of the horrific installations, she had leapt at the chance to liberate yet another facility without a second thought.

"I say we make our move," Pavel suggested. "Anything beats sitting here all day, twiddling our thumbs."

"Yes, Pavel, that's a wonderful idea," Astrid sarcastically retorted. "Let's go in, blasters blazing, and engage them in a heated firefight before we've even located a single prisoner. Brilliant."

Pavel snorted in half amusement, half irritation. "You got a better plan, love?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Astrid said, stealing another glimpse through her binoculars. "And it begins with you not calling me 'love'. I still outrank you, you know – I can make it an official mandate if you'd like…"

"Hint taken, Captain," Pavel smirked. "So, what's this plan of yours?"

"We're going to do exactly as instructed," Astrid replied. "This mission calls for recon, and that's precisely what we're going to do. If these troopers are really preparing to move out, we'll just have to wait for them to leave. As far as I can tell, there are no captives inside or outside the compound."

"That's the plan?" Pavel huffed, obviously displeased with his superiors' chosen course of action.

"That's the plan," Astrid confirmed as she did her best to ignore her grating companion. "If we charge in blind and they do have prisoners, we'll get a lot of innocent people killed. And for now, the Empire itself doesn't seem to be killing them."

With that, their conversation came to an abrupt end. Astrid's tone had made it clear that she would brook no argument, and for once her quarrelsome colleague seemed to have taken the hint…for the time being, at least.

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Only the sound of her hurried footsteps could be heard echoing through the massive hangar bay as she strode past numerous grounded fighters and discreet cruisers; all of which belonged to the mounting Rebellion. She spotted the man behind her uncharacteristic haste the moment she entered the building complex. Clad in his customary beige tunic, he pulled back the hood of his cloak when he caught sight of her and offered a polite smile.

His auburn hair was cut in its usual style, along with a matching beard with only the slightest tinge of gray giving away his age and decades of experience. In some ways, Padmé mused, he reminded her of Red…the biggest difference being that she had never heard the man presently standing before her ever crack a joke. He still walked with a limp; the result of a past injury sustained on the atrocious lava planet of Mustafar just before he had rescued her and found her refuge. He had, in fact, been the only other person to witness the devastating death of her husband, and the birth of the most monstrous tyrant the galaxy had ever seen. She had never asked him what had truly transpired between him and Vader on that fateful day, and frankly, she didn't really want to know. The memory was far too painful to reflect on.

"Padmé, it is good to see you again," her guest said with a respectful nod once he reached her. "It has been a long time."

"It's good to see you, too," Padmé replied, returning a weak smile. "How are you, Obi–Wan?"

Jedi Master Obi–Wan Kenobi. Even after the fall of the Jedi Order and the complete and utter destruction of everything he had ever held sacred, her old acquaintance was still all formality and etiquette. Seeing him in the flesh again was like opening up an old wound that had never fully healed. He reminder her of Anakin…of a past life that she would never get back, that was lost forever. It pained her to her very bones.

"You're just in time," she spoke up after a short, albeit awkward silence.

"Am I?" Obi–Wan asked, quirking a puzzled brow. "Just in time for what, might I ask?"

"We are preparing to hold a briefing," Padmé answered. "I would like for you to be present, if you don't mind…"

Obi–Wan smiled as he casually folded his hands beneath his robes. "Of course not."

"Chancellor Organa will be listening in from Coruscant," Padmé added while she turned on her heel and gestured for her visitor to follow. He obligingly fell into step as she started out of the hangar. Her chest tightening, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves before speaking again. "But before we get there…Obi–Wan, I have to know."

"They are doing very well, Padmé," Obi–Wan answered her unasked question, immediately grasping the meaning of her not so subtle inquiry. He had felt the wave of emotion, her overpowering anxiety, the instant he had arrived; and he could hardly blame her for feeling the way she did. "Young Luke is even beginning to walk. Soon he will be up and running, just like his fath–"

Obi–Wan immediately regretted his blunder.

"It's okay," Padmé said in a near whisper, easily picking up on the remorseful expression covering the Jedi's face. "Really, it is. I'm just glad to hear news of my children…any news."

"Rest assured, they are safe as long as they are with Sabé," Obi–Wan replied.

Padmé did her best to keep her own expression unreadable, for her companions' sake. Yes, the mere mention of her murdered husband had made her heart ache. But even more than that, the thought of her son and daughter was almost unbearable. Luke had taken his first steps, and she hadn't been there. One day he would speak his first words, and she wouldn't be there for that either. The realization that his childhood was slipping by and she was missing it hurt more than any physical torment ever could. And Leia…she would miss her life, as well. She would miss everything. Vader had seen to that.

"Isn't this it?"

So lost in her thoughts, Padmé hadn't even noticed that they had arrived at the briefing room until Obi–Wan's voice pulled her from her stupor. Glancing inside, she could see that the rest of her associates had already assembled and were patiently waiting for their leader.

"Y–yes, this is it," Padmé slightly stammered. "We're here…"

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	5. Chapter Four: Conspiracy

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc._

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_I know, this story has been a bit of a political thriller so far, but never fear! This chapter is a prelude to… Well, I better not give away any spoilers._

_Thanks again for the encouraging reviews & stay tuned (right?)…_

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**Chapter Four**

_**Conspiracy**_

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A full hour had come and gone since the start of the briefing. Obi–Wan silently stood in the far corner of the room while he intently listened to the assembled commandants; observing their mixed exchanges and heated debates, but refraining from voicing his own thoughts and opinions. Sitting at the head of the table, Padmé had thus far remained relatively quiet and reserved. Over her shoulder, a large screen displayed the images of Chancellor Bail Organa and the woman that the Jedi Master recognized as not only a current sitting senator in the Galactic Senate, but the clandestine Supreme Leader of the underground Rebel Alliance, Mon Mothma. The two politicians had been participating via telecommunications from the high offices of Coruscant.

Nothing too pressing had been discussed, or even broached by the gathered committee just yet. Obi–Wan knew, however, that something significant was bound to arise sooner or later; otherwise, Padmé would not have asked him to attend. Even without the aid of the Force, it was easy enough to discern that something of grave importance was preying on the former senators' mind.

"Reports have come in from our team on Endor," the current speaker said in a loud, clear voice. "Its processing camp has been evacuated and decommissioned, as ordered by Vader himself. Apparently, he is acting as the new Emperor despite the fact that he has not yet been sworn in to legally assume the position."

"Lord Vader shut it down?" Mon Mothma's image chimed in. "Why would he do such a thing? Is this intelligence reliable?"

"Yes, milady," the speaker replied with a respectful nod. "Once the base was abandoned, our team infiltrated the compound and accessed their still active data logs. Their records were encoded, but our on–site analysts were able to decipher them promptly and without incident. Vader's motives are unclear, but we can at least be thankful that there is one less camp operating in the galaxy. As for our team, they should be returning any moment now."

"Very well," Mon Mothma said before shifting her focus to Padmé's seat. "Padmé, I believe the floor is yours…"

Obi–Wan turned to Padmé as she rose from her chair and cleared her throat. Nodding to a man sitting to her left, haggard and dressed in a wrinkled jumpsuit, she waited for him to activate a holopad on the surface of the table before proceeding.

"Today will be a day like no other," Padmé began as a holographic display of what appeared to be a list of numbered files sprang to life before their eyes. "Today we must make a momentous decision…a decision that could change our lives, and the lives of everyone in this galaxy, forever. This is an extensive index of every directive and command ever put into place for the Empires' clone army."

"What?!" Chancellor Organa exclaimed, unable to mask his surprise. "That's impossible! How did you acquire this index?"

"Forgive me, Chancellor, but the 'how' is not important," Padmé said without pause. "What is important is what we choose to do with it now that we have it."

"And what exactly would you propose we do, Commander Amidala?" one of the seated speakers questioned.

"If you will direct your attention to Order 323," Padmé continued, motioning to the glowing holopad. "In layman terms, it was set up as a fail–safe initiative designed to protect the Emperor from a coup. It's similar to the order that was used…" Trailing off, Padmé cast Obi–Wan a rueful glance before sadly resuming her explanation, "…that was used to betray the Jedi and seize control of the Senate."

A somber moment of silence fell over the room as the surrounding commandants and politicians alike mourned their fallen guardians and paid their respects; each of them careful not to look in Obi–Wan's direction. Whether their timid behavior was due to feelings of discomfort, or feelings of shame, he wasn't sure.

"Unlike that particular order, this one is not specific to the Jedi," Padmé proceeded, offering Obi–Wan a sympathetic smile as he nodded his understanding. "It states simply that in the event of any power staging a coup and attempting to overthrow the Imperial government, the army is given full authority to deal with the situation by any means necessary."

"You still haven't told us what you plan to do with this information," the same speaker from before persisted.

Scanning the faces that expectantly studied her and awaited a response, Padmé took a moment to compose herself before replying. "I propose we kill Lord Vader."

Obi–Wan's brow raised in subdued astonishment as the room erupted. Some protested, others championed the notion…all shouted.

"You're mad!"

"Why not kill him? He has already murdered countless victims!"

"It's suicide!"

"Too many have already died!"

"We are seekers of freedom and justice, not vengeance!"

"He must be stopped! If we don't stop him, who will?!"

Anticipating such a reaction, Padmé merely stood and patiently waited for the chaos to die down. Eventually, it did; to a degree. Enough, in any case, for a somewhat civil conversation to recommence.

"You understand what you are suggesting, Padmé?" Mon Mothma voiced her concerns once the commotion had abated. "You know what that would mean…"

"I do, yes," Padmé replied, not fazed in the least bit by several of her colleagues' blatant protests. "It is the only way. As we all know, the Senate still convenes to keep up appearances, but it wields no real power. If Vader is assassinated, control is immediately returned to you, Chancellor Organa…and if you initiate Order 323, you can blame the assassination on the highest ranking Imperial officers and have them arrested for treason and removed from power."

His gaze skeptical and defiant, one of the gathered commandants spoke next. "I can't help but think that this plan of yours has less to do with the demise of the Empire, and more to do with your own personal ties to Lord Vader, Commander Amidala."

"Such an accusation is out of line and will not be tolerated," Mon Mothma firmly interjected, her tone putting the culpable speaker in his place and silencing him without argument. "Tell me, Padmé, even if we were to vote on your proposal and come to some sort of an agreement on the subject, assassinating Lord Vader will be no easy task. How would you even go about carrying this plan out?"

"I have no delusions, milady…I know it will be difficult," Padmé retorted. "And I can assure you all that this is much more than a personal vendetta. Our very survival depends on the destruction of the Empire – I would never jeopardize the resistance for my own benefit. As for Vader, he is unpredictable at best. However, he does have a fatal flaw: his hatred for the Jedi. One thing you can count on is his determination to hunt down every last survivor himself. It just so happens a signal was intercepted by a fleet of Imperial cruisers, reporting a recent, albeit fabricated, Jedi sighting on Kashyyyk. We have arranged everything. We've already provided the bait and coordinated a perfect location to set the trap."

Obi–Wan thoughtfully stroked his chin as he digested Padmé's plot to eliminate Vader, and bring down his treacherous Empire. It was a logical and sound one. The Jedi Order had never condoned violence or death as a rule, but exceptions had always been made. Sometimes they had to be. And if ever brute force needed to be applied, it was now; in the face of overwhelming evil and senseless suffering. Vader could not reign over the galaxy, he knew that much. His continued rule was not an option if ever Obi–Wan wanted to see peace and balance again in his lifetime.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may," Obi–Wan finally stepped forward, letting his presence be known not only as an observer, but as a contributor to the open deliberation, as well. "Commander Amidala has a valid point. Darth Vader will lay waste to everything you hold dear unless somebody does something to stop him. He cannot be convinced to change, he cannot be reasoned with…he is nothing more than a slave to the dark side of the Force. It controls him as you would control your droid. There is no other option. If you stand idly by and hope for a diplomatic solution, the Rebellion will fail and all will be lost."

"Your words carry a great weight in this council, Master Kenobi," Chancellor Organa humbly replied. "You do understand, Padmé, that as the head of what is left of the Senate, I cannot take part in any act against Vader directly…"

"I would not ask you to incriminate yourself," Padmé retorted, turning back to the large screen broadcasting from Coruscant just behind her. "This entire operation hinges on you taking the reins once Vader is gone. Without your political support, we will never succeed."

"Very well, then," Mon Mothma added as she, too, regarded Obi–Wan and Padmé with a deep, sincere reverence. "I trust we have all heard and said enough? Let us put it to a vote…"

* * *

Lazily stretching her arms above her head to ease the aching muscles in her back, Astrid wearily sauntered down the landing platform of her transport; each step sapping her strength that much more. The journey back had been long and tedious. The rest of her squadron already leading the way out of the hangar bay, she had remained behind to make sure everything was sorted and in order before departing herself. It wasn't long, however, before she discovered that she was not quite as alone as she had previously thought.

"Some afternoon, eh, love?" she heard a familiar voice chuckle nearby.

"Please, Pavel, I'm tired…I don't have enough energy to put up with the usual verbal sparring you seem to enjoy so much," she moaned, knowing that it would do no good. Getting rid of him, she mused, would be like getting rid of a starving animal after you had fed it your table scraps. "I just want to go to my room, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed for a week or two. Maybe three, if they'll let me."

"Sounds nice. Would you like some company?" Pavel said with a smug grin. Laughing, he rushed forward and stepped in front of Astrid to cut off her escape route as she rolled her eyes and attempted to brush past him. "Okay–okay, all joking aside…it was a good day. After all, nobody died."

"It's a sad state of affairs when that's what your life has come to," Astrid retorted, frowning as she released an exasperated sigh. "When nobody dying constitutes a good day."

"Has anyone ever told you how inspirational these little pep talks of yours are?" Pavel quipped, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. "Listen, what do you say we have a celebratory drink before you go and slip into your coma? Come on, I'll buy. No unnecessary conversation required."

As much as Astrid hated to admit it, a drink actually didn't sound like a terrible idea at the moment. But to give in to her pursuers advances and agree to his terms would only encourage his deplorable conduct, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Luckily, her savior appeared a moment later, and it came in the form of an old computers specialist named Red.

"Hey, welcome back!" Red greeted them with a wide, amused smile. "Home sweet home, huh?"

"I guess you could say that," Pavel sulked, clearly unhappy that his invitation had been interrupted.

Still smiling, Red resumed his previous course. "Well, it's just a shame you won't be stayin' long."

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked as the specialist nonchalantly continued on his way through the spacious hangar.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" he replied. "We're moving back out right away. The votes are in – we're gonna take out the big, bad honcho man."

Like Pavel, Astrid furrowed a puzzled brow. "Red, what in blazes are you talking about?"

Next came the words that neither of them could have prepared for:

"You better hold onto your hats, boys and girls…we're going after Vader."

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	6. Chapter Five: War!

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_I've received a few questions about Darth Vader's origins in this story, so I just thought I'd take this opportunity to clear a few things up. Everything that happened during ROTS has occurred in this alternate reality, except Vader & Obi–Wan's duel on Mustafar ended differently. Vader is not confined to the suit, Padmé obviously survived her last encounter with Anakin/Vader and the birth of the twins, and she definitely does know who Vader is. Hope this helps explain a bit better._

_Anyway, LOVE THE REVIEWS!!! Here's the next chapter…_

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc._

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**Chapter Five**

_**War!**_

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Kashyyyk.

It was a world of lush jungles and huge, sprawling wroshyr trees. It was no surprise that the Empire still had its sights set on the planet; it had long served as a gateway for the entire southwest quadrant of the galaxy, making it of prime strategic importance. War had been waged on its usually docile inhabitants, the Wookiees, during the last days of the devastating Clone Wars. This, among other reasons, made it the ideal site to lure and trap Vader…if rumors of a suspected Jedi straggler hadn't been enticement enough, the thought of said Jedi undermining his authority and encroaching on his territory right under his nose would no doubt be the deciding factor. His arrogance and raging ego would not permit him to tolerate such a blatant act of defiance. He would want to deal with this trespasser personally. When it came to the Jedi, he was painfully predictable.

Her only regret was that the Rebellion would have to place the battle worn Wookiees in the face of imminent danger once again in order to carry out their mission. It had, much to Padmé's dismay, been her decision to stage the assassination on their home–world. Of course, steps and precautions had been taken to select a location that would be as far away as humanly possible from any known settlements, in an attempt to prevent any natives from finding themselves in the middle of their impending operation. She had to tell herself that it was all for the greater good. In the end, if the resistance succeeded, the ruinous flame of the Empire would be extinguished once and for all, and its forces would be withdrawn from Kashyyyk altogether. Never again would their kind be forced to suffer under its ruthless tyranny and oppression. Unfortunately, even the truth of this line of reasoning gave her little comfort.

Back at the Rebellions' main headquarters, it had taken some convincing to finally get Obi–Wan to concede defeat and agree to not accompany her to the verdant planet. Padmé had pleaded with him to return to her children; to watch after young Luke and Leia in the event that she herself didn't return. In all likelihood, their plan could ultimately fail. And if it did, any hope of ever seeing her son and daughter again would be lost. She needed to know that they would be well cared for if the worst happened…that they would be safe, and kept out of harms' way. As long as they were out of the Empires' reach, her own fate was of no importance. She could die knowing that they would be protected.

"Boss?"

"Yes?" Padmé sharply replied, her voice slightly cracking as she turned to her companion. "What is it, Red?"

"You feeling okay?" the computers specialist hesitantly asked. "You're looking a little pale."

"Don't worry, I'm fine," Padmé said, clearly lying through her teeth. In truth, she was nearly trembling as her nerves set in; a tight knot tugging at the pit of her stomach. "Is the perimeter secure?"

"All bases are covered," Red answered with a snort. "We have enough firepower to blow a hole through an Imperial Destroyer."

"Good, we'll need it," was Padmé's curt response.

Red intently studied his superiors' face for a moment before awkwardly clearing his throat. "I can only guess what's going on in that head of yours. I know it won't be easy for you. After all, the man was once your husban–"

"That _thing_ was never my husband!" Padmé angrily exclaimed, fuming as she turned to her startled subordinate. "And it would do you well never to make that mistake again. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, sure…" Red sighed, realizing that he had obviously overstepped his bounds. "Read you loud and clear, boss."

Instantly regretting the palpable bitterness in her tone, Padmé released a labored breath and wearily rubbed her temple in a futile attempt to clear her whirling mind. Grimacing, she inwardly scolded herself for allowing her emotions to get the best of her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized after a fleeting silence, knowing that such a harsh reprimand had been uncalled–for. "You didn't deserve that."

"Hey, forget about it," Red replied, shrugging it off.

Padmé hated to admit it, even to herself, but his words had hit just a little too close to home for comfort. She had often wondered if, when the time came, she would really be able to kill Vader…if she would truly be able to pull the trigger. She knew that he was a monster. She knew that he had to perish if peace was to be restored. Yet, on the surface, he was something entirely different. Those deep, penetrating blue eyes. Those lips. The very lips that she had kissed and drowned in time and again; drinking in his love and basking in the Naboo sun while the hours slipped by. Hours that had been lost in time, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

No matter how much evil he had done, he still had the face of her beloved husband. He still looked like the man she had fallen in love with. His body belonged to Anakin Skywalker, but his soul, if he even had one, was nothing more than an infinite abyss of pure hatred and fury. She had pledged her heart to a man, but he had been murdered by the dark side. How she cursed the Force for what it had stolen from her. She had planned to spend the rest of her life with her Ani. Instead, her dream of living out her days alongside the man she loved had been slain along with the man himself. But could she honestly bring herself to assassinate the beast who had taken his place, she wondered. Would she be able to spill his blood by her own hand? To see Vader as anything other than what he undeniably was would be nothing short of disastrous. But the question had long plagued and tormented her thoughts. It gnawed at her like a ravenous disease, eating away at her very core.

"I need to check on the others," she said at last. "You should wait here. Remember, stay alert and keep your guard up."

"What?" Red chuckled in disbelief, slightly quirking his brow as Padmé turned to walk away. "You're pulling my leg, right? You want me to stay behind while you do all the dirty work? You can't possibly expect me to just sit on my hands and do nothing…"

"You belong behind a computer, Red, not a blaster," Padmé retorted, stopping only to glance over her shoulder.

"Listen, boss, you're gonna make history here today," Red replied as he drew his sidearm from its holster; clearly making the gesture to convey the depth of his resolve. "I'm just glad to be a part of it. Even if I am just a small contribution to the success of this mission, I'll be able to sleep better at night knowing that I did my fair share to prevent future generations from having to go through what we've gone through. Trust me, I can do more than just punch buttons. Besides, if we don't pull this thing off I'm as good as dead, anyway."

"Red, you've already helped enough," Padmé assured the specialist, reluctant to accept his request. Frowning, she carefully scrutinized him for a moment before continuing. "But I suppose you do make a good point. If you must insist on endangering yourself, you can join Astrid's squadron."

"Ten–four, boss," Red said as his Commander continued on her way. "I'll see you on the other side, huh?"

"Let's hope so."

Overcoming her momentary doubts, Padmé purposefully strode toward her destination with one goal on her mind: the demise of Darth Vader. Not for the first time, she had come to question her capabilities and wallow in self–pity, but the reprehensible flash of weakness had quickly vanished. She had been a hypocrite. After rallying to convince the Rebellion to commit to her tactics, she had actually pondered over her own personal qualms and ridiculous misgivings. But now, back to her usual self, she was once again firm and unwavering in her devotion to the task at hand. Vader would die…and she would be the one to kill him.

* * *

Astrid clenched her jaw to keep from screaming as she tinkered with her malfunctioning comlink, and used every ounce of her willpower to keep from strangling the man crouched down beside her. Positioned near the outskirts of a dense stretch of jungle, she had been forced to endure the incessant grumbling of her second in command for what had seemed like an eternity. Having skipped their midday meal, it had been almost 24 hours since the last time they'd eaten. Luckily, she possessed the self–restraint needed for a stealth operation. Pavel, however, clearly did not.

"They couldn't even give us ten lousy minutes before shipping us off to the blasted land of the Wookiees," he complained. "I'm starving!"

"Apparently, you don't grasp the concept of 'noise discipline'," Astrid stated, not attempting to hide her agitation as she spoke. "Besides, you had plenty of time to grab a spare ration before we left – it's your own fault you're starving."

Pavel scowled. "Is that so? Even you must get hungry…"

"Perhaps," Astrid curtly replied. "But moping about won't fill your stomach, so do us both a favor and be quiet."

Pavel muttered a few inaudible words under his breath, but to Astrid's delight, obliged and said nothing more on the subject. Returning to her thoughts, she couldn't shake the foreboding feeling in her gut that had grown since their arrival. They had taken every possible measure to ensure the successful outcome of their mission, yet something still felt out of place. Surrounding the exact coordinates that had been intentionally created and transmitted by the Rebellion and intercepted by an unsuspecting Imperial fleet, she had remained watchful and steadfast from the moment they had touched down on the target planet. And now, on top of everything else, her comlink wasn't working. Her own squadron hunkered down and ready for action just behind her, she had tried and failed to contact the other surrounding units to check in and get their status reports. Hopefully, even though she couldn't reach them for confirmation, they had safely moved into position and were prepared for whatever might come their way.

"Hey, look at this," Pavel started in once more as he plucked a small, round berry from a nearby wild plant. "You think it's edible?"

"It could be poisonous," Astrid retorted. "Why don't you give it a taste and let the rest of us know?"

Pavel opened his mouth to reply, but was abruptly cut short before he could get a word out when a sudden, violent rumble sounded off in the distance, and the ground began to quake beneath their feet. Frozen in place, the squadron sat in complete and utter silence while the disruption gradually abated.

"What was that?" Pavel asked, listening intently. His answer came when the distinct sound of blaster fire soon followed.

"It looks like lunch will have to wait!" Astrid shouted, leaping to her feet and immediately racing in the direction of the ensuing assault. "Follow me!"

Astrid could hear the hurried footfall of her squadron following close behind mixed with her own as she charged onward; her adrenaline taking over and numbing her body to the thrashings of vines and branches as she relentlessly pushed through the nearly impenetrable jungle. Her heart pounded in her chest and ears, but she didn't stop or slow her pace. She merely stooped over and ran, bobbing and weaving through the labyrinth of natural obstacles.

This was it...the time had come. The future was in their hands and she wouldn't let anyone, including herself, down.

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	7. Chapter Six: War! Part II

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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc.

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**Chapter Six**

_**War! Part II**_

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Panting from exertion, Astrid relentlessly pushed forward through the green thicket of vines and towering trees of Kashyyyk while Pavel and the rest of her squadron followed close on her heels. The distant sound of sporadic blaster fire grew more and more intense until it became all but deafening in volume; seeming as if they would all be engulfed and swallowed up whole by the rampant war at any moment. Luckily, a wealth of knowledge and firsthand experience had, to a certain extent, allowed Astrid to steady her breathing pattern and somewhat calm her nerves. This, she knew, was not an advantage that all of her unit would benefit from. As a decorated Captain, she had been involved in more skirmishes than she cared to count; perhaps only Pavel rivaling her in the sheer number of missions that she had loyally and faithfully carried out for the Rebellion. They had both shed their own blood, and spilled the blood of others on almost a daily basis since the rise of Chancellor Palpatine's unlawful Empire. The same thing could not be said for many of the less experienced men and women advancing just behind her. In a way, she pitied them for it.

It wasn't long before they found themselves on the frontlines of a brutal war raging between those who strived to restore peace and justice to the galaxy, and those who fought to destroy any remaining vestiges of the Old Republic. Chaos unfolded in all directions. Blasters blazed wildly as members of the resistance and Imperial clone troopers alike fell dead where they stood. Earthshaking explosions tore through soldiers from both sides and sent powerful tremors through the ground beneath their feet. Dark smoke and debris filled the air; choking and stinging Astrid's eyes as she hastily gave her orders to move in and engage the opposition.

"No retreat!" she cried out as she led the charge. "It's up to us, now! This ends today!"

Spreading out to take cover behind the abundance of surrounding Worshyr trees, enemy fire was soon sent flying in their direction as they made their presence known with a sudden ambush concentrated on the nearest battalion of clone soldiers. Several of the troopers were taken out within seconds, but those who managed to survive the unexpected bombardment quickly displaced and began to return fire. Astrid ducked behind the tree she had been using for cover just as a shot intended for her head struck its side; splintering and charring the wood fragments, and violently blowing its bark away on impact. Beside her, Pavel narrowly avoided another incoming barrage from inflicting any major bodily harm as he did the same. A single shot grazed his leg, but he miraculously managed to escape the clones' onslaught, for the most part, unscathed. Wincing in pain, he clutched the flesh wound while more rapid blaster fire followed.

"We're in serious trouble here!" he exclaimed over his shoulder. "We're outnumbered ten to one!"

"Did you see Vader anywhere?!" Astrid questioned, ignoring his remark and flinching as blaster fire continued to assail them.

"The only thing I can see is my life flashing before my eyes!" Pavel shouted in return.

Pinned down and unable to move from their susceptible position, Astrid knew that it would only be a matter of time before their adversaries would commence a more direct counterstrike. Once they did take the offensive, the Imperial troops would be in a prime position to swarm and overrun her squadron. They would find little difficulty in massacring every last one of them if they couldn't somehow regain a foothold in the battle. At the moment, they were far too vulnerable and exposed to withstand a full–scale assault. The clones had, much to Astrid's dismay, significantly diminished their forces in a relatively short period of time. As far as she could tell, it appeared as if they had already lost nearly a third of their manpower stationed in the area.

"It looks like they brought half the Imperial army with 'em!" Pavel yelled as he attempted to peek around the corner of the tree.

"They were ready for us! They knew we were coming!" Astrid shouted back. "I don't know how, but they knew! We walked straight into a trap!"

Despite the gravity of their situation, Pavel flashed his Captain a grin. "And here we thought we were the ones springing the trap! Ironic, huh?"

Once again, Astrid ignored her subordinate as she racked her brain to come up with a new plan of attack. Suddenly, she turned with a start when a massive explosion erupted and promptly dispatched the clone soldiers closing in on her squadron. The cavalry had arrived. Emerging from the jungle, Commander Amidala took point while a steadfast regiment of Rebel fighters followed in tow; fearlessly storming and encompassing the unsuspecting troopers. Even from the distance, Astrid could see the strength and grim determination burning in her commanders' eyes like hot embers glowing against the bleak darkness of night. It was then that she firmly straightened her shoulders and turned to her unit. She would not let Padmé down…she had a job to do, and failure wasn't an option.

"Blue Team, on me!" she exclaimed as she resumed their advance. "Evasive fire! Pull together!"

Flanked by her squadron, Astrid charged forward to provide reinforcements while Commander Amidala's regiment slammed into the assembled clones like a battering ram. However, the momentary relief that she had felt only seconds before vanished an instant later when an entire company of Imperial soldiers appeared in the trees; armed to the teeth with blaster rifles and an arsenal of heavy artillery.

"Get down!"

Astrid didn't have time to react as a familiar voice bellowed a warning, and she was forcefully knocked off her feet. The trees directly behind her squadron were set ablaze just as she was tackled to the ground. Imperial cannons fired mercilessly and shook the jungles' very foundation while mortar shells detonated and wreaked havoc in all directions; leveling dozens of trees and killing a small group of resistance fighters in the process. Glancing back at the destruction, Astrid took a moment to catch her breath before shifting her attention to the man lying beside her.

"Red?!"

Sprawled out on his back, the aged computers specialist forced a weak smirk through his obvious pain. "Reporting for duty, Cap'n. I always did like to make an entrance…"

"Come on, we have to keep moving!" Astrid groaned, clenching her jaw as she did her best to shake off the effects of the sudden blow and clamber back to her feet. She froze when she noticed the deep gash in his abdomen. "Red, you're hit – you need a medic!"

"Got here just in the nick of time, huh?" he choked out as he grew increasingly pale and sluggish.

The battle continued to rage and escalate while Astrid feverishly pulled the fabric of his jumpsuit aside to better inspect the severity of his injury; his torso having been struck by a jagged piece of shrapnel. His intervention, she knew, had most likely saved her life. She could only hope that it would not turn out to be at the expense of his own. Unfortunately, a closer look at the wound soon dashed any of those hopes. She had seen similar injuries, and the victims had always met the same fate: death.

"We need to get you up!" she exclaimed, hastily reaching down and seizing his arm to haul him up from the ground, nonetheless. She paused once again when he lifted a feeble hand and motioned for her to stop. His eyelids growing heavier, he attempted to speak one last time before slipping into unconsciousness, but to no avail. "Red, what are you doing?! Hold on! You have to stay awake, Red!"

Astrid didn't tear her gaze away from the older man until a hand grabbed her by the arm and urgently yanked her away.

"Leave him!" Pavel shouted as he unceremoniously pulled her after him. "He's gone, Astrid! He's dead!"

Astrid opened her mouth to protest, but was immediately silenced by the unmistakable _snap–hiss _of a legendary weapon that had become virtually nonexistent since the barbaric decimation of the Jedi Order. Out of the corner of her eye, a crimson blur streaked through the air; causing an involuntary shiver of fear to run down her spine. Turning to the source of her newfound terror, she caught sight of a truly frightening scene. A dark, hooded figure leapt upward and deftly flipped overhead; maneuvering in what could only have been described as an awe–inspiring example of flawless grace and agility. Diving toward the ground and rolling to his feet, the figure skillfully swept his lightsaber with ease and cut down three Rebel soldiers in one fluid motion. Striking with swift, inhuman speed and precision, they hadn't even seen him coming until it was too late. Despite the considerable distance that stood between them, Astrid felt as if she could feel the heat of his blood red blade searing her skin. She could hear its hum reverberating in her ear as it cleaved through her fellow freedom fighters. Never in her wildest dreams had she anticipated such a reaction. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she was horrified.

His face may have been shrouded beneath the black hood he donned, but she knew his identity. It was him…he was really there. The successor to the Imperial throne, and possibly the most formidable threat that the galaxy had ever contended with, had come. He was no longer a distant image on the holonet, nor was he merely a name. He was real, and he was within her grasp.

Darth Vader had arrived.

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	8. Chapter Seven: Betrayal

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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc._**

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Chapter Seven

_**Betrayal**_

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Her hands held high above her head in surrender, Astrid grudgingly marched towards the horde of armed Imperial troops obediently standing at attention while the rest of her captive squadron followed close behind in an orderly fashion. Thick smoke still billowed from numerous impact craters and wafted through the air; a myriad of tremendous explosions having rocked and ravaged the jungle floor during the course of the preceding skirmish. The dead, smoldering bodies of clone soldiers and Rebel fighters alike littered the ground, battered and broken. In all directions, the assembled clones encircled their vanquished enemy and kept a vigilant, ever–watchful eye on the perimeter. The resistance hadn't stood a chance once _he_ had arrived with a legion of heavily equipped Imperial reinforcements in tow. The dreaded Dark Lord of the Sith, alongside his unwavering army, had pummeled their defensive lines and cut their forces in two like a vibroblade through a slice of warm bread. It had taken minimal effort on their part. There was no denying the truth, for it was plain to see: the Rebellion had blindly waltzed straight into a trap.

Glancing about at her fellow soldiers, Astrid studied their dispirited faces as they were led single file into the center of a small clearing to be monitored by their gathered captors. They were now hostages of the first Galactic Empire. And under the ruthless dictatorship of its new Emperor, she had a good idea of what to expect as a prisoner of war. They had defied their self–appointed ruler, and to do such a thing was treason. Treason, of course, meant one thing…it meant death. Every last one of them would no doubt be sentenced and executed on the spot without trial or jury for their brazen acts of disloyalty; perhaps even by the Emperor himself. They would receive no quarter. He would show them no mercy. If it hadn't been for the safety of the men and women serving under her command and her responsibility to them, Astrid would never have conceded defeat herself. Instead, she would have gone down in a blaze of glory fighting for what she believed in. She would have gladly died on her feet with her head held high; taking out as many Imperial troops as she possibly could before meeting her own untimely end.

Her attention was soon caught by a man who appeared to be an Admiral in the Imperial army as he joined a high–ranking clone officer. Exuding unmistakable pretension and superiority, he approached the armored soldier and observed while the last of the captured Rebel fighters were rounded up and herded into the clearing. Words were exchanged, but Astrid couldn't make them out from the distance.

"Well, what do we do now?" she heard Pavel whisper over her shoulder.

"Just stay calm and be quiet," Astrid replied, her gaze never straying from the pompous Admiral. "Show them no fear, and do not speak unless spoken to. That goes for all of you. Understood?"

What remained of her squadron quietly answered in unison: "Yes, Captain."

It wasn't much longer before a distinct _snap–hiss_ met their ears. Turning with a start, Astrid was the first to spot the source of the noise as he purposely strode through the perimeter; his black cloak billowing in the soot filled air behind him while he deactivated the crimson blade of his lightsaber and made his way towards the Admiral. Returning the hilt of the lethal weapon to his side and clipping it to his tunic belt, his mere presence visibly struck fear into his subservient underling. If Astrid, too, hadn't been so unnerved by his presence, she might have taken some satisfaction in seeing the palpable fright on the Admirals' face.

"Is that him?" she heard one of her subordinates gasp. "Is that him?!"

"Shhh…" was her blunt response.

Despite the drawn hood that for the moment shrouded his true identity, Astrid knew exactly who the new arrival was. It was indeed the recently proclaimed Emperor. Standing only a few lengths away from her was the flesh and blood embodiment of pure evil. With disturbingly natural grace and ease, she had witnessed firsthand his effortless slaughter of several resistance fighters shortly before their defeat and relocation. He was the reason she was there. He was the reason so many of her friends and allies had perished. Following the demise of his predecessor, he had become the very reason that the Rebellion even existed. Darth Vader was truly the epitome of everything that was wrong in the galaxy.

Slowing his pace, he came to a halt once he reached his awaiting subject. "Your report, Admiral."

"The perimeter has been secured, milord, as ordered," the Admiral stated, doing his best to muster up his courage, but failing miserably.

"Very good, Admiral," Vader curtly replied. "Have you found the leader of the uprising?"

"Not as of yet, Lord Vader," the Admiral nervously answered. "But rest assured, we will find them."

Much to the Admirals' relief, Vader soon shifted his focus elsewhere; turning his attention to a group of Rebel prisoners being held in the vicinity before starting in their direction. Some faltered and trembled under his scrutinizing stare, while others somehow managed to remain, at least seemingly, calm and composed. He silently examined them for a long moment before stepping forward and singling out one fighter in particular.

"You have been found guilty of conspiracy and high treason," he said in a firm, even tone. "How do you respond to these charges?"

"If I have been found guilty of plotting against the Empire, I plead guilty," the fighter retorted, his confidence somewhat dissipating now that the Dark Lord stood before him. "I am loyal to the Republic alone, and no other."

"I find your sense of honor commendable, but your faith is sadly misplaced," Vader replied as he carelessly extended a hand. The fighter immediately began to claw at his throat; an invisible force choking and cutting off his air supply. All around him, the other captives shied away while he futilely struggled to catch a breath. "The Old Republic is no more. You can choose to join the Empire, or you can choose to die alongside your foolish ideals. It is entirely up to you…"

Astrid cringed and averted her gaze when her helpless cohort was sent sailing backwards from a powerful Force shove; not stopping until he collided with a nearby tree. The sickening thud, and the sound of his bones shattering against its bark, was enough to make her stomach churn. Appalled and nauseated by the savage act, she reluctantly turned back to Vader as he addressed the remaining fighters.

"You are all collaborators," his voice boomed, demanding their undivided attention. "As such, Imperial law dictates that you be tried for treason and put to death. Turn over your leaders now and you will be spared. Otherwise, your fate will be no different than theirs, and your lives will be forfeit."

Tentatively clearing his throat, Pavel moved from his place beside Astrid and took a hesitant step forward before speaking up. "Milord?"

"Pavel, shut–up!" Astrid hissed under her breath. "What are you doing?!"

Vader skeptically studied the other man from a distance before making his approach. Once he drew closer, he stopped and expectantly waited for him to proceed. Astrid's spine quivered when she caught her first clear glimpse of the visage beneath the hood. The face belonged to that of someone still in their early years of life, yet it was callous and battle–hardened like that of a veteran warrior. She couldn't explain why, but it was the most fearsome and terrifying sight that she had ever laid eyes on.

"I am Pavel Tahl, Lord Vader," Pavel introduced himself, his voice slightly cracking as he spoke. "Codename: Red Infiltrator."

"Does that name mean anything to you, Admiral?" Vader questioned, not bothering to turn to the anxious officer standing several feet behind him.

"Yes, milord…" the Admiral quickly answered. "Red Infiltrator is an alias designated to an informant operating within the resistance. If he is who he says he is, this man supplied us with the intelligence needed to successfully neutralize the Rebel threat."

Astrid couldn't believe what she was hearing. All this time, a spy had been feeding the Empire vital information right under her nose. Not only that, but he had long served as her second in command. She had always considered Pavel to be many things, but never had she thought him capable of such treachery. He could be an obnoxious flirt and prove difficult to deal with at times, but he had also been a fellow soldier. And as a fellow soldier, she had entrusted him with her life on various, death–defying occasions. But above all else, he had been a friend. To think that he could have possibly switched allegiances and defected to the side of their sworn enemy was unfathomable. But in her heart, she knew that he had done just that. He was the very perpetrator that she had come to suspect of deceiving and betraying the Rebellion. They had been ambushed, and he had known all along what would happen to them...what would happen to her. In aiding Vader and his Empire, he had single–handedly sabotaged and brought about the destruction of the resistance. He was a traitor, and they had all been duped.

"You traitor, what have you done?!" Astrid's voice escaped her before she even realized what she was doing. "You've killed us all!"

Unable to look his Captain in the eye, Pavel's reply was barely above a whisper. "Sorry, love, but sometimes you just have to pick the winning team…"

Seething with rage, Astrid didn't think as she lunged forward and struck him square in the jaw. He was sent reeling when her fist connected; the unanticipated blow causing him to stagger back and almost topple over.

"We trusted you!" she furiously exclaimed. "How could you do this?!"

Trying to rein in her emotions and calm her anger, she turned to an onlooking squad of clone troopers as the click of their readied blaster rifles pulled her back to reality. Prepared to take action, they remained where they were without opening fire while Vader simply stood and watched the altercation unfold with an expression somewhere between irritation and mild amusement.

"Sir?"

Thankfully, his attention was drawn to an approaching clone Sergeant before he had a chance to intervene. "What is it?"

"We have a critical prisoner in need of medical assistance, sir," the Sergeant said after giving the customary salute of an Imperial trooper. "Requesting immediate evacuation."

"You were instructed not to bother with the wounded," Vader retorted, his patience obviously wearing thin. "Dispose of them."

"Our standing orders are to take the Rebel leaders alive, sir," the Sergeant persisted. "Markings on the prisoners' uniform indicate a senior rank."

"Very well, Sergeant, bring the prisoner to me," Vader replied with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Once I have finished questioning them, you may take them away for further interrogation."

"Yes, sir."

"And what of our informant, milord?" the admiral asked, gesturing towards Pavel as the Sith moved to depart. "Shall I arrange for a transport?"

"That won't be necessary, Admiral," Vader answered, sparing the defector a brief glance before continuing on his way. "His services are no longer required."

"Milord, I have done what was asked of me! I have fulfilled my duty to the Empire!" Pavel suddenly blurted out. "I beg of you, Lord Vader! You must – "

"I must do nothing," Vader cut him short, glaring over his shoulder and promptly silencing his plea for sanctuary. "The Empire does not negotiate with known conspirators." A chilling smile crept across his lips a moment later. "I'm interested to see how those you've betrayed will react now that they know the truth. Tell me, are you Rebels a forgiving people?"

Without so much as another word, Vader left the traitor to his own devices and met the Sergeant halfway just as he returned with a medical stretcher. Hovering safely above the ground, the device supported the weight of a single patient. Bloodied and unconscious, her maimed body lay sprawled out on its surface, lifeless and unmoving; much of her clothing torn or scorched by what appeared to be the result of a close range mortar detonation. Astrid couldn't contain a horrified gasp when she saw the injured prisoners' pallid face, for it was a face that she knew well. Lying vulnerable and exposed, her commander had fallen. What she saw next, as if seeing her beloved leader in such a fragile state hadn't been enough of a shock to her system, was something that she truly could never have imagined…

"Padmé?!" Vader cried out, his anguish radiating in waves as he urgently rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside the stretcher. "Get her to the medical station! Now!"

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	9. Chapter Eight: Defiance

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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, etc._

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_Sorry for the wait, folks! I know I've been slacking lately, but I hope this update will make up for it. As always, I appreciate all the encouraging feedback. It definitely gives me that little nudge I need to get going again. Anyway, thanks for sticking with it._

_Enjoy!_

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**Chapter Eight**

_**Defiance**_

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Darkness slowly faded and turned to light. Her eyes were heavy and sore as they fluttered open. Blinking, she allowed them a moment to adjust to the dim glow emitting from the silver ceiling just above her before attempting to sit up. Wincing in pain, she first felt a dull ache that started in her temple and ran down her neck and shoulders; followed by an abrupt stabbing sensation in her ribcage the instant she moved.

Instinctively clutching her side, she hastily jolted upright with a gasp and found that she was lying in an unfamiliar bed. The fog was still lifting from her head as she anxiously glanced about to take in her surroundings. Much to her dismay, she couldn't recall why she was there, or even where _there_ was... the last thing she could remember was boarding her ship and preparing to depart for the jungle planet of Kashyyyk alongside an entire fleet of steadfast Rebel fighters.

Suddenly, Padmé's heart nearly leapt out of her chest as her memories came rushing back to her all at once. Her mind somewhat clearing, she could vividly recall awaiting Vader's arrival on the Wookiees' home–world, and the ensuing ambush. The resistance had been taken by surprise and swarmed by a horde of Imperial troops, but had fought bravely and valiantly nonetheless. Many soldiers who had long served under her command had fallen right before her eyes; brutally slaughtered by the clones that had once waged war against the very enemy they now followed.

Many more, she was sure, had met the same fate. The thought that she had survived while so many others had not made her nauseas. Clearly, the Rebellions' plot to assassinate the recently self–appointed Emperor had been discovered. How exactly their covert operation had been unraveled and thwarted, however, was a question that she was unable to answer.

Returning her full attention to the present and once again focusing on her current predicament, Padmé did her best to remember where she was, but to no avail. One minute, she had been engaged in a desperate battle against the Empire. The next, she found herself lying wounded in a strange bedchamber that she had never before laid eyes on. Unfortunately, the space in between was still blank.

Tossing the smooth sheets that covered her slender frame aside, she glanced down and realized that she was clad in nothing more than a lightweight, silken gown. Not wishing to dwell on who or what had undressed her and replaced her usual clothing, she merely frowned as she attentively studied her new environment. The room was spacious and pristine, but lacked any semblance of warmth. The walls were bare and unwelcoming; reminding her more of a prison cell than sleeping quarters.

Pushing through the pain in her ribs, she slid out of the bed and lowered her feet to the cool durasteel floor. A chill ran down her spine as she silently crept across the bedchamber and made her way toward its door. Cautiously approaching the threshold, she paused and peered through the gloom before proceeding into an adjoined sitting area; several pieces of unadorned furniture illuminated by the faint glimmer of stars through a large, transparent viewport. At first, she saw nothing. Then…

Padmé felt as if the breath had been sucked from her lungs the moment she spotted the tall, ominous figure standing before the massive window; silently gazing out at the vast emptiness of space like an inert statue carved from stone. Taken aback, her heart beat so fiercely that she thought, for a second time, it would leap out of her chest at any second. Though she could only make out the vague outline of a dark silhouette through the shadows, she knew precisely who it was. Or, rather, _what_ it was: A dictator who ruled with an iron fist, and without mercy. A ruthless Sith Lord. A cruel, vicious beast devoid of pity or remorse. The very monster that had murdered her husband and left her as nothing more than a broken shell.

Vader.

He had robbed her of her children, and in doing so, had turned her into something that she no longer recognized. She now lived only for her revenge; consumed by despair and a paralyzing fear that he would one day discover her precious son and daughter. He had reduced her to a mere ghost of her former self. Like countless others, she had been a casualty of his raw, unthinking fury. When he had slain Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Naberrie–Skywalker had perished with him. If not for her beautiful twins, she would have willingly allowed her body to die along with her soul. But Luke and Leia kept her strong… kept her firm and unwavering, and gave her otherwise hollow life purpose. If not for them, virtually defenseless against the threat of the treacherous Empire, she would have had nothing left to keep her going. But so long as they were in danger, she would never rest, never stop until they were safe and out of harm's way. No matter what happened, she would always be there to protect them.

"You should be resting…"

Padmé nearly jumped out of her skin when an all too familiar voice spoke up and broke the heavy silence hanging in the air. At first, the abrupt sound startled her and sent her pulse racing faster than she had ever thought possible. Hearing him speak, she couldn't contain an involuntary shiver as it ran down her spine and reached her toes. However, it didn't take her long to come to her senses and compose herself. He may have worn Anakin Skywalker's face and used his voice, but he was not Anakin Skywalker. He had no right to the name. He had stolen her beloved husband before leaving her, pregnant and alone, to die on the hellish world that was Mustafar. The very thought left a bad taste in her mouth.

Weary as she was, she unflinchingly held her chin high and squared her shoulders; her outward appearance not matching the inner turmoil that threatened to boil to the surface. She refused to show any display of weakness… she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Tell me, what did I do?" he questioned as he continued to stare straight ahead. His eyes never strayed from the viewport, yet Padmé could feel him intently watching every move she made. "All this time, I thought you were dead. You can't begin to understand how I felt when I saw you lying there… like an angel come back to life."

There was something eerie and disconcerting about the way Vader spoke without bothering to turn around. It reminded her too much of the way Anakin had looked while meditating out on the veranda of their lake house; so tranquil and at peace with himself. He had often spent the early morning hours admiring Varykino's beautiful scenery while she slept. She would find him standing there, lost deep in reflection. But he could always feel her presence like a shining beacon of light. As much as she hated to think that her husband and Vader shared anything in common, it only made sense that the Sith would possess the same abilities.

"But then I discovered the truth of it, my love," he continued through clenched teeth, pulling her from her whirling mind and back to reality. "You tried to kill me, Padmé. You want me dead. So, I ask again… what have I done to earn your hatred?"

Seething with rage, Padmé could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat as the urge to fire back with a livid response became almost too much to resist. He dared to ask her such a thing?!

Miraculously, she somehow managed to hold her tongue; settling instead for balling her fists at her sides and chewing on her bottom lip to keep from screaming. For a moment, she bit down so hard that she thought she was going to pierce the skin and draw blood, but she didn't care… she would not lose control in front of him. He had already taken enough from her. Under no circumstances would she allow him to take her self–respect, as well.

"How could you do this to me, Padmé? To us…"

Much to Padmé's surprise, Vader's words conveyed a quiet sadness that she didn't think him capable of expressing. Finally turning away from the viewport to look her in the eye, she didn't see the face of the murderous tyrant that she had expected, but that of a man hurt and betrayed; grappling with an array of emotions that she knew all too well. Grief. Sorrow. Possibly even regret. But she wouldn't be deceived or swayed by his feeble veneer. Hiding behind that mask of humanity, lurking just below the surface and concealed beneath the guise of a seemingly civil being, dwelled the spirit of a truly evil creature; the likes of which the galaxy had never seen. She would not, could not, be fooled…

"Am I your prisoner?" she asked at last, her tone calm and even.

"My prisoner?" he repeated brokenly, as if the very notion had sent a sharpened dagger plunging directly into his blackened heart. She would have taken pleasure in the fact that her words appeared to have wounded him so profoundly if only she believed that anything resembling a heart still beat in his chest. "You're my wife, not a hostage."

"My husband is gone," Padmé retorted, doing her best to hide her anger and remain diplomatic. "You should know, milord… you took him from me."

"What are you talking about?" Vader questioned with a seemingly genuine curiosity. "I didn't turn my back on you, Padmé. You turned against me."

"You may address me as Commander Amidala," Padmé replied, her expression hard and unreadable. "And you betrayed me, Lord Vader, along with the Republic and everything Anakin Skywalker stood for."

At this, Vader's own expression changed to one that she had been previously acquainted with; the very same expression that she had seen and been horrified by mere seconds before the life had been choked out of her, and she had collapsed at the feet of Palpatine's new apprentice. She had been accused of leading Obi–Wan to Mustafar to kill him, even though she had known nothing of the Jedi's presence on her ship. But Anakin had already been lost, consumed by the dark side of the Force, and the devil that had inhabited his body would not listen or be reasoned with. For a time, she had believed that there was still good in him… that the person who she had lovingly pledged herself to could still be saved. How she had been wrong about that.

"What have you done with my people?" she voiced her concerns when she received no response.

"I assume you mean your Rebel fighters," Vader stated, his frustration somewhat abating as he returned his gaze to the viewport. "The Rebellion has failed. It's over, Padmé."

"You're lying," was Padmé's blunt retort, even though she feared, deep down, that the savage butcher standing before her was telling the truth.

Ignoring the sharpness of her reply, Vader simply remained where he was, once again frozen in place; his shoulders sagging in exasperation as he released a long, labored sigh. "I must admit, this isn't the reunion I had first envisioned two days ago."

Padmé couldn't hide her shock. "Two days?!"

"You were badly injured," Vader elaborated. "I thought I had found you, only to lose you again. Luckily, your wounds were not so severe that they couldn't be mended. After two days in the bacta tanks, you have made a full recovery."

"In the Empires' bacta tanks, you mean," Padmé spat, the thought alone making her skin crawl. "If I had been given the choice between death and receiving your help, Lord Vader, I would have gladly accepted death. Instead, you took it upon yourself to heal me… and for what? To torture me even more than you already have? Or perhaps you were expecting gratitude, is that it?"

"Do you really want to do this?" Vader asked, still not turning away from the incandescent stars. "I don't want to argu–"

"Don't you dare!" Padmé exclaimed, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. "Now you want to act rational? Now, after you've destroyed the Republic and the Jedi Order? I'm afraid it's too late for that."

Padmé couldn't contain a startled gasp when Vader suddenly spun around; hurling a nearby marble vase across the room with a violent wave of his hand. Shattering against the far wall, its shards crashed to the ground as he rounded on her. His eyes blazing with pure, unbridled ire, he looked more like the villain that had long haunted her dreams, and less like the man whose embrace had once brought her such refuge and blissful comfort from the everyday tribulations of the outside world. Her reaction, she imagined, was the opposite of what any sane individual would do if ever they found themselves in her position: she stepped forward to meet the enraged Sith Lord half way as he stormed toward her.

"What now, milord?" she questioned, refusing to yield as he drew closer. Stopping short, he halted his advance just before reaching her place in the room. Still, even with the distance separating them, his imposing stature towered over her petite frame like a giant predator hovering over its prey. But she would not be deterred. "Are you going to kill me, just like all the Jedi you've hunted down? Just like your late master…"

If she hadn't known any better, Padmé would have sworn she saw a flicker of remorse wash over the Sith's face. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. "The Jedi never trusted me. And unlike those traitors, I took no pleasure in dealing with the Chancellor... it had to be done."

"Is that what you did, Lord Vader? You dealt with him?" Padmé mocked as her smoldering eyes bore into his. "Funny how those closest to you always seem to wind up dead or suffering, isn't it? As for the Jedi, it would appear that their misgivings were well–founded."

"It was their disloyalty to the Republic that led to their downfall, not me," Vader countered.

Padmé furrowed a brow. "And your master? Tell me, how did you do it? Did he see it coming, or did you kill him while he slept?"

Logic had told her that only the Emperors' apprentice could have been formidable enough, and close enough to his inner circle, to assassinate him. On the rare occasion that he had actually appeared on the holonet to give one of his contrived public speeches, she had seen Vader standing in the background like an obedient pet; never wandering too far from his side. She had known from the very beginning that only his trusty pupil could have pulled off such an impossible feat.

"The Chancellor was just another corrupt politician, no different than the rest," Vader growled, confirming her suspicions as his anger once again escalated. "You know that better than most, _Commander_. He wanted power, nothing more."

"And you don't?" she shot back, garnering an infuriated glare from the Chancellors' already fuming successor. "You're just as guilty as Palpatine. You've stripped people of their basic liberties, and the right to think for themselves! You call that justice?"

"I have brought peace to the galaxy!" Vader snapped, pivoting on the ball of his foot and moving away from the Senator turned Rebel leader; as if struggling to control an overwhelming impulse to leap forth and throttle her. "Democracy had its chance, and its people were rewarded with pain and suffering. You preach to me, Padmé, but you forget that I fought the separatists and served the Republic for three long years. If not for me and my new Empire, that war would still be raging."

"If not for you, freedom would still exist," Padmé hotly retorted. "If not for you, I would still have some semblance of a normal life."

"I couldn't let you die, Padmé!" Vader roared, spinning back around on his heels to face her. "There was no other way! Can't you see I was trying to save you from my visions? I had to protect you!"

"Protect me?!" she exclaimed, unable to restrain herself. "The only thing I ever needed protection from was you! Because of you, I have nothing left!"

"I couldn't stand by and do nothing!" Vader shouted back. "I did it for you! All of it! Everything, it was for you!"

"You killed younglings!"

The statement itself hurt Padmé more than any physical pain ever could. Not even noticing the tears that stung her eyes and freely streamed down her cheeks, or caring to hide them, she no longer attempted to rein in her conflicting emotions; allowing them, instead, to pour out of her like an unstoppable torrent of pent–up energy. "They were only children! They were innocent! Did you do that for me, too?!"

Vader fell silent.

For a long, tense moment, they stared at each other as if dazed and lost in a hypnotic trance. No words were spoken. Through her blurred vision, Padmé defiantly scrutinized the Dark Lord of the Sith; not bothering to wipe her tears away while she peered straight ahead. He, in return, remained where he was and watched her with obvious uncertainty. She had spiraled out of control, just as she had vowed never to do, but she was beyond caring. Crying in front of him now seemed a trifling, trivial matter not worth giving a second thought. Like dust swept up and carried away in a strong gust of wind, her concerns gradually dissipated until her pride and vanity was all but forgotten.

Time stood still until Vader eventually cleared his throat and slightly withdrew into himself.

"This is all wrong," he said at last, much quieter and more subdued than before. "This isn't the way it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to…"

Padmé glared at him as he once again averted his gaze. "Why are we playing these games? If you're going to kill me, just do it and get it over with."

"You think I want…" Vader trailed off a second time, still refusing to look her in the eye. "How could you think that? I would never lay a finger on you."

"That didn't seem to stop you from nearly killing me the last time we met," Padmé replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she recalled the murderous expression that had consumed the Sith's face during their last encounter on Mustafar. It was the very moment that she had realized her husband had been twisted by the dark side and changed forever. And as much as she had initially denied it, there was no bringing him back to the light.

"Or don't you remember, milord? After all, you have massacred so many that it must be getting hard to keep track. What difference would one more victim make?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a stranger, Padmé," Vader retorted, keeping his own tone uncharacteristically calm. "You can denounce and condemn me all you want, but we both know I'm not the only one who's changed since we last saw each other. You've grown bitter and resentful… you never would have sought revenge in the past."

"I have you to thank for that, Lord Vader," Padmé answered.

"You're not one of my subordinates," he said as his composure gave way to his temper, and he angrily turned back to her. "To you, I'm still the same Anakin that you married –"

"Don't you speak his name!" Padmé blurted out. "The Jedi were right, you're nothing but a pawn to the dark side! Anakin grew up as a slave! He never would have traded one slavery for another!"

Vader opened his mouth to respond, but shut it an instant later. Grudgingly relenting and taking a step back, he remained eerily quiet while he drifted closer to the viewport and seemed to lose himself deep in thought. "I saw him…"

Not understanding his meaning, Padmé herself remained silent and waited for him to continue.

"I saw our son, Padmé. I saw him as clearly as I see you now," Vader proceeded after he received no reply. "Your Rebellion has attacked several Imperial processing camps, but you couldn't find them all. I dreamt that I saw him... he was taken to one of the installations. I went to the Chancellor, but he wouldn't listen. He forced me to choose between my allegiance to him and the life of my child. What else could I do?"

Eager to learn the truth, Padmé dashed forward and seized Vader by the arm; slightly catching him off guard, even with his highly attuned senses.

"What happened?" she demanded an answer, more than asked for it. The thought of Anakin's premonitions about his mother, and her death shortly thereafter, gnawed at her mind like a ravenous animal. He had been right about her. She could still picture Shmi Skywalker's limp body, cradled close to her sons' chest upon his return to the Lars' family homestead back on Tatooine. She could still remember everything about that fateful day down to the last minute detail, as if it had just happened. "What happened in your dream? What did you see?!"

Vader hesitated. The look of dread on his face told Padmé all that she needed to know; leaving no doubt in her mind that his visions, like Anakin's, ended in tragedy and pain. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. If something had happened to Luke…

"What happened to him?!" she screamed like a woman possessed, the anxiety over the safety of her son flooding over her and devouring ever fiber of her being; driving her to a point of panic and desperation that, even with everything that she had already survived, she had never known or experienced. Vader didn't move to defend himself as she snapped, and frantically pounded her fists against his chest. "Tell me! Please, I'm begging you!"

Trying to catch her breath, she felt two gloved hands grasp her by the arms just as a sudden faintness overcame her, and her knees buckled. Sobbing, her hands trembled uncontrollably as her legs gave out and she dropped to the floor. Kneeling down to eye level, she almost didn't even see Vader crouching over her as he tried to lull her out of her state of blind hysteria. Ignoring the revulsion of having him within such close proximity, she clutched onto his cloak; refusing to let go, or ease her hold on the thick fabric.

Padmé could see his lips moving, but no sound met her ears. She was trapped in a nightmare. A nightmare that she couldn't escape, and it only became darker with each second that ticked by. Luke. She had to find him! She had to make sure he was safe!

That was when she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement amidst the stars; having been too far away from the viewport to notice from her place across the room. Drawing her attention, she peered through the shimmering window as an armada of Imperial ships surrounding and encircling a single vessel. She froze when she spotted the hopelessly outnumbered cruiser. She recognized it immediately, for she had selected it herself. It was the very cruiser that she had chosen, and the Rebel Alliance had provided, for her oldest and dearest friend, and keeper of her children.

Sabé had been entrusted with Luke and Leia, and had taken them away to an undisclosed location that even she hadn't been privy to. Against the protests of her heart, she had elected not to possess such knowledge out of fear that, as a distinguished Rebel leader, she could be interrogated and pumped for information if ever captured by the Empire. And if there was even the slightest chance that information could be obtained from her to be used against her son and daughter, and lead her enemies to them, she knew that she would never have been able to live with herself. She could never endanger them, or take the risk and gamble with their lives in such a way. Her paranoia, it seemed, had somewhat paid off; she now found herself in a similar situation, albeit exceedingly worse than she had ever anticipated.

"What are you doing?" the question escaped her lips while she continued to stare out at the lone cruiser, visibly distraught.

"Don't worry, Angel, our son is alive and well," Vader answered, sounding far too much like her husband than she cared to admit. "Soon, you'll have nothing to fear. I'll keep him safe."

"NO!"

Padmé recoiled, her strength and resolve returning as she leapt back to her feet and moved away from him. "Leave them alone! If you so much as touch –"

Rising to his feet, Vader's eyes grew wide. "Them?"

Padmé caught her blunder an instant too late. _Them_. Not only had she slipped and acknowledged that her son had survived childbirth, but she had inadvertently revealed that he had a twin sibling. For so long, she had done everything in her power to maintain the pretense that her baby had died during pregnancy, only to betray both children in the heat of the moment. She inwardly cursed herself for being so foolish while Vader abruptly turned away from the viewport and started for the nearest exit. She didn't even feel his cloak as he walked by and it brushed up against her skin; her entire body going numb as the gravity of what she had just done hit her like a ton of bricks. She had failed them… she had doomed them both.

"You can't do this!" she called out after Vader's retreating form. "You have to call off your ships!"

Vader stopped just as he reached the threshold of the suites' doors and they slid open with a loud hiss. Standing on the other side, a group of clone sentries sprang to attention and saluted him while he looked back. "They have been instructed to disable, not to destroy. Our children will not be harmed."

Helplessly watching on, Padmé returned her focus to the cruiser while Vader resumed his previous course. However, he halted a moment later when she cried out; the cruiser erupting in a ball of flame and debris, and slowly splitting in half as the vacuum of space tore it apart. Vader rushed forward and returned to her side just as there was a bright flash of light and the center of the vessel splintered in two.

"What have you done?!"

Vader paid her accusation no mind as he stormed back toward the doors and approached the awaiting clone sentries. "Contact the bridge and tell those ships to cease fire! Do it, now!"

Following orders, several of the armored soldiers gave curt salutes before hastily making their way down the corridor to carry out their task, while several others stayed behind to cover their posts. Clearly assuming that his bidding would be done without question or delay, Vader didn't even break his stride as he brusquely pushed his way through the threshold.

"Where are you going?!" Padmé called out to him once more.

He paused as he glanced over his shoulder. "To get our children."

"Wait! You have to let me go!" Padmé implored, rushing forward to intercept the Sith as he once again moved to depart. "I have to go with you!"

Vader ignored her as he made his way down the corridor; fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as her path was promptly blocked by the remaining sentries. Hopeless and out of options, even she was shocked by what came out of her mouth next:

"Anakin, please!"

This stopped Vader dead in his tracks. He spared her a brief glance that, in reality, must have only lasted a few seconds, even though it seemed to drag on for an eternity. His expression was impassive and unreadable, and Padmé feared that her request would be denied. But she couldn't stay behind and stand idly by; not when the future of her children was at stake. She had to do something. Anything. Whatever she could, no matter what it took… she had to help them.

Turning away, Vader's cape billowed through the air as he marched down the corridor and called out to the sentries:

"Let her pass."

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End file.
